


Not Alone

by Irelando



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irelando/pseuds/Irelando
Summary: It was supposed to be a routine jailbreak. Take the place of an Imperial prisoner transport and leave before anyone was the wiser, bring what remained of the Rebellion presence on Corulag home before they could be interrogated by the Empire. It was Rogue One’s specialty, as much as they could be said to have one.Something went wrong.(for Rebelcaptain week day 2: Comfort)





	Not Alone

Hoth’s freezing air feels like a personal affront when the U-wing’s hatch creaks reluctantly open ( _need to talk to Chief Adin,_ Cassian notes tiredly, _get those hinges fixed before we go out again)_. The cold doesn’t normally bother him, but as he troops across the landing bay with his exhausted team, it creeps down through his coat collar and up his sleeves to join the chill inside him.

They failed.

It was supposed to be a routine jailbreak. Take the place of an Imperial prisoner transport and leave before anyone was the wiser, bring what remained of the Rebellion presence on Corulag home before they could be interrogated by the Empire. It was Rogue One’s specialty, as much as they could be said to have one.

Something went wrong. Cassian had spent the entire ride back to base turning it over in his head, and he still can’t figure out what tipped them off that he and the others weren’t what they appeared. Maybe the Empire had finally wised up, put some new protocols in place that they hadn’t known about. But no sooner had he stepped off the shuttle than the guards turned their weapons on the prisoners, gunning them down in a few staccato flashes of blaster fire.

At least, he thinks with grim satisfaction, they made sure none of the guards survived, either.

Draven is waiting when they step into the base proper. He takes one look at Cassian’s face and his own tightens, lips pressing into a line. “I take it you were unsuccessful.”

Cassian draws himself into something resembling a proper stance, casts about for what to say. _Yes, sir_ , is unnecessary. _I’m sorry_ is inadequate.

“They knew,” Jyn says unexpectedly from beside him. He glances at her, and she gives a little shrug. “I don’t know how, but they knew. New security protocols, maybe.”

Draven nods, rubs a hand across his face once. Cassian’s surprised he lets even that much fatigue show in front of Jyn. “I’ll see what we can dig up.” His eyes flicker back to Cassian. “Get some rest. All of you.” He doesn’t wait for a response before turning and striding away.

“I think he’s starting to not hate me,” Jyn remarks, a tired sort of humor in her voice.

Cassian turns, and finds all of them looking at him. At least they all got out safely; he’s glad for that, glad that Baze thought to set up in the cargo bay with his cannon, just in case, and been quick on the trigger when the prisoners fell. It means that the worst wounds any of them will carry from this day are emotional, not physical. It’s a small comfort.

“You heard him,” he says. “It’s been a long day for all of us. Go rest.”

In a rare show of discretion, Kay doesn’t point out that, as a droid, he doesn’t actually need to rest for another couple of days. He just turns and clanks off, and the others soon follow.

Except for Jyn, who quietly keeps pace beside him as they walk back to the room they share.

Until the door hisses shut behind them, Cassian has every intention of sitting down at his desk to get the mission report out of the way, mostly just so that it’s not hanging over his head anymore. But then the door is closed, and Jyn shucks off her bulky outer layer, and fatigue roots his feet to the ground. He watches her unwind the scarf from her neck. She catches his eye over her shoulder and turns, dropping her clothes carelessly to the ground.

Neither of them says anything. They don’t need to. He has his jacket off by the time she reaches him. Her hands slide up his chest, warm despite the thermal vest he still wears. Her fingers ghost briefly over the bare strip of skin just above his collar, then back down to ease the vest down over his arms.

They undress each other. There’s nothing sexual about it, even when her lips brush his bare chest and he slides his fingers under her breast wrap to loosen it. The chill air in the room raises goosebumps on his arms, but the way it sharpens the heat of her skin touching his is so, so worth it. It pulls him out of his head, out of the obsessive rehashing of their mission gone wrong, and into the present moment where he’s _not alone, not alone anymore_.

In the morning, they’ll have to face what happened. But they’ll face it together, and that’s comfort enough.


End file.
